


In The Palm of Your Hand

by AHarlot



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Also Y'shtola is chubby, Also takes place during Heavensward, Angst, Biting, F/F, Forgot to add those two last ones, Minor amounts of Dirty Talking, One-Shot, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Girl!WoL, Unrequited Love, fat cat wife, it's largely just a handjob and some foreplay, minor Bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHarlot/pseuds/AHarlot
Summary: Shortly after Y'shtola returns from her little dip into the Lifestream, the Warrior of Light, a Xaelan black mage in her late teens known as Saran Goro, feels remorse for the consequences she perceives to be her own fault. Consequences that got someone she held dearly in her heart nearly killed, and subsequently left with a permanent affliction.Y'shtola does her best to comfort the young woman, despite being the one who was just recently injured, and rescued.
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 29





	In The Palm of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first solo thing I've posted in literal years, the prior being a Trans!Adaar/Sera fic that I also wasn't super confident in posting. I usually just stick to RPs lmfao, but I was unlikely to find this anywhere soooo figured I'd do it myself!
> 
> I gave this a skim and felt it was decent enough to post, and if there're any grammatical errors, or sentences that just don't make sense, lemme know and I'll fix it up. I'm not great at beta reading, and had no one else to do so for me.
> 
> Spoilers for like midway through base game Heavensward so don't read this if you don't want spoilers.

Saran has heard the faint rumblings of talk behind the door of the Roost, a hand perched in front of it, preparing to open it. But she couldn’t. No one could see her here, not this late at night. Most others were asleep, and the only ones she suspected to be awake were herself, Y'shtola and Y’mhitra. Saran has never reflected on it before, she simply had no time to, but when Kan-e-senna pulled that older miqo’te’s form from the lifestream? The emotions dropped upon her mind and body like a ton of popotos. She felt like it was her fault. Sure, Alphinaud did too, they’d taken some time to talk while Y'shtola was still out cold and being checked by chirurgeons, but Saran felt uniquely at fault. She was the warrior of light.

Saran Goro was the Warrior of Light. She was meant to save everybody, she was meant to be the one who never gave up and kept going strong in the face of adversity. She had the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The fact that she simply assumed she had lost someone, that they had died, and she did nothing to try and make sure of such? She felt terrible.

By the time she realized the talking had stopped the door opened, revealing a tired Y’mhitra, Saran jumping at the sight of the taller Miqo’te, before stepping aside.

“Sorry.” Came in an uncharacteristically meek voice for the Xaela, her voice usually filled with something adjacent to anger, smugness, sarcasm or a mixture of any of those.

Y’mhitra gave a bow of her head towards the Xaela, who was once again in her typical attire. A white dress that hung down to her ankles, however her makeup had been wiped clean from her pale face, and hair rather disheveled. Y’mhitra could see just how dark her eyes were, those black sclera thankfully hiding any potential redness that came with her tears, but the dried tears were evident on her cheeks were evidence enough of this woman’s facade, her wall of thorns, having dropped. Saran, for a moment, was glad Y'shtola could not see her like this anymore. But her voice gave away just as much.

Once Y’mhitra left the bare footsteps of Saran’s moved into Y'shtola’s room, and quickly shut the door, locking it tight and moving quietly over to the chair that’d been occupied by so many others that day. She sat in quiet for awhile, looking down at her feet and occasionally staring a glance at that gorgeous woman before her. So unblemished by any kind of affliction, even one as debilitating as blindness. It took Saran awhile, but what came out in such a hoarse voice was enough to throw off anyone who knew Saran’s usual demeanor. It was quiet once again, but desperate, apologetic, remorseful. All things most people did not know her as.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed out, hands on her knees, her slim legs pressed together as she now kept her gaze locked with the floor. The quiet that came was enough to last an eternity for this young Xaelan, biting her bottom lip and gripping at the fabric of that stark white dress, holding in a breath she didn’t realize she’d taken. What came next she didn’t expect.

A laugh, one that fell upon her ears like something blessed by the Dusk Mother herself. It caused her to look back up at the older of the pair, her eyes immediately admiring those gorgeous wrinkles that Y'shtola often made sure no one made mention of. Saran had such strong feelings for this woman, one who had helped her grow and fought alongside her more than anyone else, or gave her words of wisdom that weren’t in some indecipherable garbage filtered through a thick accent that often gave her a migraine rather than made a situation better. Y'shtola’s hand came to cup Saran’s cheek, something she had not expected, but Saran couldn’t help but lean into the touch, eyes closing as reacted like some kind of affection starved kitten.

“What for, Saran?” That silky voice finally spoke, while Saran figured the touch was simply because of her recent affliction, the inability to see her own expression. “This is unlike you, despite your age and inexperience. You’re so strong, so relentless, and now you come to me and apologize? What could you ever have done?” Saran wished those words were true, and she knew Y'shtola was saying it to ease her self-conscious soul, surrounded in that aforementioned wall of thorns. It was something she wasn’t proud of, but found it necessary. Being the Warrior of Light often required sacrifice, and she’d hurt so many people in the past. Used them, gotten them hurt, abandoned them, or done something horrid in the heat of battle, where crossfire was inevitable. She did everything by herself, if she could help it, but Y'shtola was the one to see past that and know exactly what this girl needed, even in the deepest reaches of her person, even the sadness she tried to hide, and so often only revealed itself in the occasional tone of words, the looks she sported when she thought she was alone… Such a strong young woman, with such heavy insecurities weighing upon her shoulders. Y'shtola did everything she could, everything that Saran allowed, to ease that pain, like a motherly instinct. For Saran, the connection she felt was deeper.

“I… I did this to you. I should’ve been the one with you, I should’ve been the one left behind, or at least tried to get you out, but I ran ahead. I left you behind. I wasn’t strong enough. I got you hurt, like I always do with people I… People I care about. You’re blind, because of me. You were almost torn apart by the lifestream, because of me.” She leaned further into the touch, a hand coming up to cup that hand pressed to her face, her other hand letting her nails dig into her dress in anguish. She hated herself, and in little moments like these, behind closed doors, it was so rare to see just how much she did. It was jarring, even for Y'shtola, but she always had a feeling.

“Saran, it was a choice. It was not on you to save everyone, no matter how much you seem to think it is. Your devil-may-care attitude doesn’t hide much from me, Saran. I know how much you want to save everyone, but that’s impossible. And those that die aren’t your fault, nor is it the fault of those who died. It is at the hands of those perpetuating this injustice and forcing this violence upon us.” Y'shtola’s words felt like honey to this young Thaumaturge, a shuddering breath escaping from her lips swollen from her incessant gnawing.

Without a word Saran practically leapt from the chair and wrapped her arms around that soft waist of Y'shtola’s, face buried into her chest, with much surprise from Y'shtola. But nonetheless her arms had wrapped around the younger woman, one hand slipping into her hair as they laid back on the bed, that now-blind miqo’te gently shifting to lay in bed properly as Saran lay atop her. It was oh-so intimate, unfamiliar territory for Saran, but it felt right to be held in this older woman’s arms, even if the feelings held within her chest were likely not the same as Y'shtola’s.

Saran had never thought this far ahead, but now she was buried face-first into the older woman’s chest itself, senses filled with her scent, arms wrapped around her upper back and able to feel… just about everything. Her heartbeat, her aforementioned scent being very reminiscent of the forests of Gridania, the heat coming off her… It was comforting, and at the same time, caused her mind to drift thanks to her exhaustion. All Saran could think of in this moment was the many times in which she wished she could do something like this… Being held by Yshtola, laying atop her, falling asleep in her arms, doing things she felt embarassed to even admit to herself she wanted, giving herself to the woman who had been one of the few constant things in her life, and one of the constants that had been torn away from her for a time, devastating her and leaving her with very little motivation.

Her mind drifted further into a dream as she let exhaustion take her, laying in silence with gentle breaths shared between the two, Y'shtola enjoying the silence of which she got so little of recently, enjoying the feeling of this smaller, younger woman in her arms, even if the feelings weren’t anywhere close to what Saran felt for her.

Y'shtola didn’t love this Xaelan woman, not in the same way she loved her, and it’s why Y'shtola so often kept her distance outside of a professional fashion. She could see the way Saran looked at her when they talked, or they happened to be in the same room. Y'shtola could be conversing with Alphinaud, or Minfilia, a light in those eyes sporting a dark contrast between reptilian, white eyes, and black sclera; A gentle smile on her young features she didn’t know she let creep onto her face when looking at Y'shtola, the way she complimented her after a battle being far too personal to be simple courtesy or platonic. This older Miqo’te cared for Saran, but she felt pity for her. She wasn’t sure what to call the feelings, it wasn’t platonic, nor sisterly, nor motherly… Perhaps it was just that pity, but she could never tell, it was one of the few things that escaped her knowledge mind.

But the feelings Saran held for Y'shtola were far beyond what that young Au’ra could reasonably describe herself. Every time she looked at that Miqo’te her heart fluttered and skipped, admiring every possible thing she could about her, letting her voice ring in her horns and drown herself in that soothing voice, it being much deeper than her own. She was always there to heal her wounds, be they physical or mental, give Saran some brief reprieve from being thrust into the role of Warrior of Light, one she was not meant for, and one she struggled with coming to terms with every day. But Y’shtola seemed to care for her, genuinely concerned for her health and well-being, making sure she was safe, and mayhap it had been influenced by her own feelings, in terms of what she felt, but… She knew Y’shtola would not feel the same way.

They recognized each other’s feelings and every night Saran wished she never let herself get this attached, but the way she felt laying against the real, living, breathing Y’shtola? It felt like a drug. It felt intoxicating. It felt like she was meant to be the one held in her arms every night, instead of falling asleep alone once again, and not just her, but Y’shtola. The way her skin felt against hers, even through the fabric of that dress, it felt electrifying, like Y’shtola’s fingers were arcing a current into her nerves. It was affection she’d never felt before, and the fact that it was coming from the woman she loved both relieved her, and made her heart ache with the constant gnawing realization that it was not equal.

But as her mind drifted into sleep, or at least half-sleep, her mind went to what it would be like if… Y’shtola did. If Y’shtola loved her, maybe she could lean up and press her lips against hers, teaching this Xaela, who just barely stood above four fulms, how to kiss. Getting a bit too eager as they did so, pressing into her and imagining the feeling of her thigh pressing between her own, rubbing up between those tights and continuing to hungrily kiss her lips, tongue invading her mouth and causing those patterned tights to grow even tighter against her, her breath growing shaky as she held Y’shtola tighter.

This drew the attention of the Miqo’te, in the real world, wondering for a moment what was wrong, if she was having another panic attack, but no, the expression on her face was far different. The blood rushing to her face as well as southward, her eyes closed and lips parted, pursed as if trying to kiss something that wasn’t there as she laid with her cheek against the older woman’s bosom. _Oh…_ Y’shtola thought to herself, her own cheeks growing pink as a result. She’d… not thought the feelings Saran held were this strong, and it only furthered that growing pity she felt for Saran. _Back in her life and all those emotions she felt for me com_ _e_ _rushing back._ That miqo’te woman sighed, leaning her head back against the pillow as she thought on what to do, trying to ignore that hardness of the sleeping younger woman against her thigh until she came to a conclusion.

With a sigh of mild frustration as well as acceptance of what she felt she must do, even if it wasn’t the right thing. The older of the two once again felt the need to… protect this poor woman. This woman in her arms was at times as hard as the strongest steel, but yet all the same as fragile as the thinnest of ice, needing to handled with utmost care. With a gentle hand coming to her face, cupping her cheek, Y’shtola gave her a gentle rock in order to try and wake her, her voice coming as she looked down to where she could see that silhouette of Umbral aether she knew to be Saran. One of the few things she could almost make out wholly, with her aetheric vision.

“Saran.” Came gently, and the woman woke ever so slowly, eyes fluttering open and focusing on the softly smiling face, her sleep-addled mind wondering if she was still dreaming until she realized this was how she fell asleep, and she’d only been asleep for perhaps thirty minutes at most.

“Mm?” She spoke, returning a lop-sided smile as she found her gaze going to those silvery eyes of Y’shtolas, looking as gorgeous as the metal she’d used to describe them in her head. She could find herself lost in them forever, that was until she moved her eyes down to Y’shtola’s lips, plush as they were. Everything about this woman was… angelic, including those soft cheeks of the scion.

Without any other word or noise Y’shtola let her hand move from the other’s youthful face, down to ever so softly place her chin between her thumb and index finger, gently pulling her and, with a good bit of shock to Saran’s barely awake mind, pressing her lips down into Saran’s ever so gently.

Saran’s eyes widened, unable to process immediately that… this was happening. Y’shtola was kissing her. Oh by Nhaama she was kissing her. Saran’s eyes fluttered back closed as she sat further up, sitting on her knees between Y’shtola’s own thighs and relieving some of the pressure against that growing problem between her thighs now, all the while trying to come to terms with the situation. What brought this on? Did Y’shtola feel the same way? She was the one who initiated it, and she was continuing it. It wasn’t just a peck, no. Her lips continued to crash into hers again and again, pulling back for but a moment, simply to catch a breath or two, only to press into Saran’s once more, guiding her.

Saran’s own lips were… clumsy, inexperienced, and really, _really_ eager. Too much at points, Y’shtola using the grip she held on her chin to guide her through it, and slowly she eased herself into a far more natural motion, the younger woman’s hands pressing down into the mattress beneath them on either side of Y’shtola’s soft waist.

Y’shtola could tell just how badly Saran had wanted this, how much emotion and need was behind those movements, beneath that eagerness. It was something that made her own heart hurt, realizing she was doing this to the poor girl, but she enjoyed seeing this girl happy for once. She wanted to continue letting Saran feel this way, letting her own experienced hands move to begin undressing the young woman, Saran’s eyes opening once more for a moment as she was rather shocked by how fast this was all going.

First came that dagger she kept at her side, tossed onto the wooden floor beside the bed, the pointed hat following and being frisbee’d into a far off corner, Saran taking it upon herself to not let Y’shtola be the only guiding force here as she kicked off her heels, loosening the fasteners on her waist as that dress came loose. She broke the kiss for but a moment, letting Y’shtola gently lift the dress up and over her head, revealing more and more of her tights, patterned with stripes on the right leg, and diamonds on the left.

As the dress was tossed aside just the same Saran now sat there topless, sitting on her knees between Y’shtola’s thighs with the older woman sitting up beneath her. Reflexively the Xaela’s small hands rest atop her small breasts, covering those dusky nipples of hers in a self conscious manner, not entirely proud of her body. It was always an awkward thing to look at in the mirror to her, like she was a walking work-in-progress.

But the way she felt, and watched, Y’shtola admire her? It soothed her. Especially as that miqo’te’s hands moved up to pull her hands away, guiding them to rest atop her shoulders before Y’shtola’s moved to grip at her slim waist, thumbs resting atop those barely visible ribs that filled Y’shtola with the thoughts of taking care of this poor girl. She didn’t eat enough, was a thought that instantly filled the other’s mind. Slowly Y’shtola leaned in, admiring those small breasts, still visible in dresses made to accentuate them, and when topless, but oh-so tiny. Smaller than Y’shtola’s own, which would’ve surprised her were Saran any taller.

Gently Y’shtola’s lips wrapped around one of those small nipples, a gasp immediately leaving Saran’s throat as she felt that warm tongue and soft lips press against them, tonguing and flicking her sensitive breast, as a hand came to grope and massage the other. Saran shook, toes curling inwards as her painted black nails dug into the fabric of Y’shtola’s attire, every breath shaky and filled with a pitiful whimper as she finally felt what she’d dreamed about almost every night since meeting Y’shtola.

No words came from the younger of the two however, just restrained noises as she looked down at the woman she longed for, for so long, actually giving her what she wanted. The buzzing in her mind left barely any space for wondering if this meant her feelings were returned or not… Wondering if what was happening was all out of remorse for leaving the young Xaelan woman for so long, because there wasn’t as much passion behind Y’shtola’s actions as there were her own. It felt… experienced but somewhat methodical. But she forced herself to stop those thoughts, forced herself to enjoy the moment, in fear of Y’shtola realizing what was going on in her head and stopping. As well as to stop that wrenching in her heart when she started to imagine the worst.

To help with that distraction she found Y’shtola’s hand slipping down her bare stomach and hooking a thumb around the elastic of those tights, tugging them down ever so slowly, letting the cool air of the room hit more and more of her body. As they fell down to her mid-thigh most everything was now fully revealed, in particular letting that particularly gifted shaft of Saran’s to spring free, hanging down towards the sheets and almost poking Y’shtola in the stomach, nearly closing the distance with the length it sported. Saran’s stifled moans continued as Y’shtola’s teeth came down upon her nipple, an actual moan being earned as a result as she felt those fangs sink into her skin and threaten to break the flesh. That pain felt… addictive. Just as everything about Y’shtola had been to her.

As those teeth bit into Saran, finding a new weak spot for Y’shtola to make note of, her free hand moved, finding it’s way to that thick cock of Saran’s in blinking as she realized she couldn’t get her fingers fully around it. Pulling away from the small nipple in her mouth she looked down, giving a quiet gasp of shock as she realized it’s size. This woman who stood at 4’5” was sporting a third leg thicker than her forearm, and about as long. “Good gods, Saran.” She gave an incredulous chuckle, Saran biting her bottom lip as she looked down at Y’shtola hand around her length. “How are you not passing out with this thing?”

Saran gave a nervous chuckle, not used to such praise as she moved her gaze back up to the awe-filled face of Y’shtola’s, the Saran’s hand coming forward to brush the older woman’s hair out of her face as best she could, up behind the ears atop her head. “I uhh… Guess I’m used to it.” Her nervous voice came, biting her lips that were still wet from Y’shtola’s own moments ago. “Are… Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked, giving Y’shtola the opportunity to stop this before they got in too deep, but as that Miqo’te woman stared down at that monstrous cock, so hard, thick, and twitching in her grip she felt a... need to relieve this poor girl. Not to mention her own, but that was a line she would draw tonight.

Bringing her hands to Saran’s waist she quickly turned her around, tugging that Au’ra close to sit her in her fully clothed lap. Saran gave a bit of a noise of shock as she was manhandled, but quickly realized what was happening as Y’shtola’s feet pressed against the inside of her calves, spreading her legs wide as she rest herself against that soft figure of Y’shtola’s. “O-Oh.” She spoke, watching as Y’shtola’s hand snaked beneath her arm and around to her chest, the other following a similar motion but coming to her length, fingers gently wrapping around it once again.

A whimpering escaped her lips, quietly begging for Y’shtola’s touch to continue as she felt that hand against her breast pinch her nipple between her fingers, rubbing and pulling at it gently. Saran’s eyes slowly fluttered closed, a quiet moan escaping her lips as she brought her own hand up to cover her mouth, though it didn’t do much to hide them. Even as she bit down on a finger her moans were clearly heard by Y’shtola, especially as that hand slowly started to pump that monstrous shaft, feeling it throb in her grip and watching that younger woman’s hips buck and thrust into the touch.

“So needy…” Y’shtola’s husky voice came out close to Saran’s horns, causing another noise to come from her, giving a quiet nod and an “Mhm...” in response. Y’shtola’s commanding hand continued to gently stroke Saran’s length, the hand moving from Saran’s breast to practically yank away the other’s, instead opting to gently slip three of her own fingers into that fanged mouth of Saran’s. Another noise of surprise left the inexperienced girl, but happily accepted as much, sucking on those fingers and moaning against them, letting her tongue run across them as the hand around her cock sped up. Saran jerked and shook in her touch, her moans filling the air as she was so responsive to something as simple as this.

But those fingers left her mouth didn’t last long, pulling them away and quickly letting Saran’s moans back in the open air for a moment, Saran’s hand reflexively coming to cover her mouth once more as Y’shtola’s now saliva-dripping fingers and hand wrapped around her cock, replacing the other, and using her thumb to rub the precum into the mix as well, using it as a makeshift lube so she could far more easily stroke that massive length, gliding her hand up and down it.

But Y’shtola wasn’t a fan of how Saran tried to hide things from her, especially not that gorgeous voice of hers, growing huskier thanks to efforts of the older woman, sounding so needy and willing to do whatever Y’shtola had wanted.

When had she grown to feel so possessive over this woman? She wasn’t sure, but all that was felt from Saran was that wet hand stroking her cock, watching Saran thrust herself into Y’shtola’s grip, a wordless beg for more. Instead, she wanted to hear her beg for it, a hand scooping up both of Saran’s on and holding them above her head, Saran blinking and a deep blush filling her cheeks as she looked up at them in Y’shtola’s grip, and then back at her face. Such a strong, domineering expression. It sent a chill up her spine.

“Shtola?” She quietly asked, the taller woman looking down at her with half-lidded, hungry eyes.

The hand around her cock stopped and Y’shtola gave a quick lick of her lips, eyeing that mostly nude figure of the younger woman. “I want to hear you beg. I want to hear how much you love it.” Came from those gorgeous lips of hers, Saran blinking in shock as she could feel her heart flutter. She was so helplessly in love with this woman, and every little thing Y’shtola did simply made it worse.

Then soon after Y’shtola’s hand picked up it’s pace once more, quickly reaching a speed surpassing what it had done prior, stroking that practical third leg with ease as Saran gasped and moaned, forcing her eyes shut as she writhed and squirmed in Y’shtola’s grip, trying hard not to as she lay there with her legs spread open, arms above her head. “Shtola please!” She gasped out, pressing further back into the body of the miqo’te. “P-Please I want to cum. I want you--” She bit her bottom lip, quieting her moans for a moment, but the tightening grip around her cock told her not to, acting as a quiet threat. She was afraid of saying too much, all the same.

“How many times have you thought about this, Saran?” She quirked a brow, leaning down further, speaking in barely a whisper, as if making sure Saran’s loud moans were the only one being heard, loud enough to be heard a room or two over. “How many times have you wrapped your hands around your own cock, imagining they were mine, or my lips, or more… begging for me.” Saran felt like she was losing herself, more precum dribbling down her cock and being added to the slick motions of that hand helping the other get off.

“I… I don’t-- ah~! I don’t know, too many… Fuck!” She curled her toes in once more, legs flexing and that little Xaela drawing ever closer to her orgasm. “Y’shtola I… hah… I want to cum for you! I-I want to be yours, please!” Saran sounded desperate, like her life depended on it, her heart hurting as she let loose far more than what Y’shtola had asked her with that simple question.

Y’shtola’s movement faltered for a moment, before bringing both hands down to Saran’s cock. Saran’s own hands slipping into Y’shtola’s hair, gripping at her scalp gently as she was stroked to her first orgasm at another’s hand, her noises of pleasure filling the older woman’s ears wonderfully.

“Such a naughty girl…” Y’shtola’s voice came once again, an idea coming to mind as she continued to speak. Of course, it was a bad one, but appealing nonetheless, wanting to help this poor girl out as much as she could. “Perhaps we shall mark you as mine then, hm?” She spoke, her expression still largely flat save the hungry look in her eyes, but she was enjoying this a good bit, even if she was taking advantage of the poor girl’s feelings for her. “Such a pretty little kitten you are… So eager and hard for me. I bet I could’ve done this out front and you would’ve enjoyed every second of people watching you moan my name, this fat cock throbbing for me and me alone… Cumming for me.” Y’shtola spoke, knowing exactly what to say to satisfy Saran. Her strong demeanor in reality falling away to reveal an insecure girl in over her head at all times, and the tears currently in her eyes spoke truth to that.

Ever closer Saran was drawn to cumming with the help of Y’shtola’s expertise and lustful words, her breath growing shakier, feeling her balls tightening and cock throbbing, Y’shtola knew as well. Leaning down she gently placed kisses along Saran’s horns, and then down further to her neck, placing gentle kiss upon kiss, each one lasting longer than the last, soon sucking on the flesh and scraping her teeth across it once again.

With a sudden bite, Y’shtola knowing full well what it was going to bring, grip tightening around Saran’s cock ever so slightly Saran gave a pleasurable scream, feeling pain intertwine with pleasure and become one and the same, eyes splayed wide as her legs spread further of their own volition. “Fuck! Y’Shtola!” Saran called out, gasping for air as it left her lungs in surprise, letting the blood from the bite on her neck drip free and feeling Y’shtola lap it up all the while being stroked, was enough to push her over the edge.

The last syllable of Saran calling out Y’shtola’s name had been drawn out into a moan, and one that persisted, rose and fell, and last throughout her orgasm, shaking just the same as she had been through the entire experience. That massive length of the Au’ra letting loose rope upon rope of thick, pearly white cum, shooting right off the edge of the bed, dripping down her cock and onto the sheets of the inn bed. Her hips bucking into every one, getting less intense as it weakened. Y’shtola could only stare in awe, teeth still sunken into the flesh of the smaller woman, the taste of liquid copper filling her mouth.

By the time she was done there was a venerable puddle of cum, between all that was on the floor and the bed, as well as dripping down her now half-hard length, the girl letting her eyes close and Y’shtola gently pulling her teeth out of her, making sure to wipe any stray blood that came from the wound with a thumb. Saran was exhausted, practically limp in the other’s arms, letting Y’shtola easily guide her to lay beneath the set of blankets atop the bed, facing towards her as she followed suit, needing some rest.

A hand came to cup her cheek once more, feeling that soft skin, wiping away any stray tears that fell from the overwhelming amounts of pleasure intertwined with praise, as well as pain. There was peace in the girl’s expression now, drifting back into sleep, before opening an eye for a moment, staring into those silvery eyes of Y’Shtola’s, with her own pale white once more.

“I love you, ‘Shtola.” Came in a slurred voice before her eyes fell back closed and her mind clouded with sleep once again, this time far less intense given her exhaustion, Y’shtola somewhat shocked by the brazen declaration of such.

But as she looked at that Umbral silhouette making up Saran’s figure, and imagining what she had looked back when she once had her eyesight, filling in the blanks in her mind, she simply responded with a gentle “I know.” Not that Saran was awake to hear.

But as Y’shtola drifted into her own sleep, a much needed rest as she’d still not entirely recovered from her time in the Lifestream, a thought filled her head.

_Perhaps I could grow to love her_ _just the same_ _._

She cared about Y’shtola so wholly, completely. It was such an innocent form of love… most of the time. It was likely the first time Saran had felt such a thing, and Saran deserved to have someone who felt the same way as her, but there weren’t many people in the world who wanted to see Saran protected and safe in the same way Y’shtola did. Perhaps this would be the miqo’te’s reasoning for loving her, but… forcing ones self to love another never ended well. Maybe it could last until the world no longer needed Saran at the front lines.

Though Y’shtola had been through something like far too often. To the miqo’te it seemed like everyone in her life felt some innate form of infatuation with her, but Saran’s definitely seemed the most sincere, and the most desperate. Despite the smug facade she kept up outside of closed doors, Saran was still a nineteen year old girl who had a lot of growing left, and if Y’shtola needed to be there to protect that innocence as best as possible? Maybe she could do just that, if she could bring herself to for once. One could only hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes the title is a bit on the nose. But it also calls on the fact that Saran's completely infatuated and in love with Y'shtola. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, leave a comment/kudos if y'did. I crave constant validation or I WILL cry.


End file.
